


entropy

by kitahart



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, That One Cycle With All The Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitahart/pseuds/kitahart
Summary: “Can I ask,” Lucretia says. For a moment, she's worried that she's shattered whatever peaceful silence they've earned, but her words don't feel quite real in the predawn light. Lup doesn't say anything, just keeps stroking Lucretia’s hair. “Did – did it hurt? When…”Lup takes in the question for a good moment, and when she speaks, her words are careful, measured. “When we died?”After a long, lonely year, Lucretia tries to be strong. Lup doesn't think that she has to be.





	entropy

**Author's Note:**

> back on my bullshit once again! this was based on the letter e for some taz abc prompts; the prompt involved the crew recovering after a particularly bad cycle. i know i've found my fandom niche in Gay Cuddle Piles but like, this is some next-level shit. 
> 
> warning for discussion of canonical character death & the trauma surrounding that.

Lucretia’s had this dream before, the one where it’s been a year and everybody is magically knit back together in bright white light aboard the deck of the Starblaster, whole and healthy and _alive_. In the long run, it’s rather uncreative of her – this one in particular is right about next to the dream where she wakes up one morning to find the rest of the crew sitting in the communal living area as if they never left, Magnus smiling crookedly and saying, _We got back in the middle of the night, but we didn't wanna wake you up,_ and, _The ship looks great,_ and, _You did a good job, Lucretia._ Of course, it's not real, but these are the fantasies she allows herself in brief moments of sleep in between running and hiding and being hunted.

But this isn't – she's not waking up.

She's not waking up because she did this, she fixed the ship and flew it to safety and _she_ did it and only now does Lucretia realize that she's collapsed, her back to the wall, burying her face in her arms. Everybody is staring at her but that doesn't matter now. Nothing matters but _this,_ the fact that it’s real.

“I fucking _made it,_ ” she's saying before she can stop herself. “It’s, it’s been a year, and I haven't talked to anyone in so long, and you're – you died?” It’s the only assumption she could have made, because there's no other reason they would have left her alone. Sometimes she had her doubts.

“Yes,” Magnus says, definitive, at the same time that Taako says, “Yeah, my dude, about fifteen minutes in,” and, _oh._

“That's not helping right now,” Davenport says, and extends an arm, palm out. Even though he's much too short to help her up, Lucretia appreciates it, appreciates that he's asking. When she touches his hand, it's solid and warm and real.

Lup silently passes her a tissue, and only then does Lucretia realize that she's been crying a little. She hastily wipes her eyes. “You should know, the ship was pretty badly messed up after we crashed. I fixed it as much as I could, but some panels are still loose in the control room, and –” She smiles, just a little. “Sorry, Magnus. I had to use your robot arm in the repairs.”

“Not a big deal at all!” Magnus says, jamming his hands in his pockets and surveying the damage. Right now, with his black eye and the gap between his two front teeth on display, it's as if he never left.

“Well!” Davenport says, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s survey the damage and fix what we can, and leave the rest for when we land tomorrow.” He steps aside, and Lucretia realizes that he's waiting for _her_ to continue, to take charge the way she has been for the past year.

She hesitates. Draws herself up to her full height _(this is real_ ) and then leads onwards.

* * *

There's little difference between day and night in space, just the ever-present hum of the ship’s machinery as it turns its lights on and off in response to an artificial clock. That got messed up during the crash too, and although it never matters – the planets they wind up on always have time cycles of their own – everyone is sleeping right now, as designated by the ship’s internal clock. 

Logically, Lucretia shouldn't be this tired. Like always, her body’s been set back to the same physical state it was in when they left all those years ago, and whatever effects the group suffers are erased when they’re knit back together in resplendent white light on the deck of the Starblaster. So, by the rules of everything she’s observed over the years, everything written in her journal, the bone-deep exhaustion she’s feeling right now isn’t real, just a trick of her mind.

Fisher hums and spins anxiously, and Lucretia places a hand against the cool glass. “I know,” she tells them. She's not sure if they understand her, but they seem to react to her mood in some manner of speaking, growing more agitated as she does.

The thing is, it _feels_ real. The panic that jolts through her every time she closes her eyes is real too, although she wishes it weren’t, wishes that she could have come out of the other end of that cycle as unshaken as her companions.

Lucretia scrubs a hand across her face tiredly and leans back against Fisher’s tank, tipping her head back. The ever-present hum of the ship’s engine melds together with the Voidfish’s humming, and her eyes begin to drift shut. She relaxes, syncs her breathing with the pulsing of the ship’s engines –

And jerks awake, panic flooding through every nerve. How long was she asleep? She can't afford rest, can't afford to lose this much time. The ship needs to be relocated. She needs to get moving, or else they'll catch her, or else...

She stumbles out of the room, barely avoiding crashing into the ship’s wall. Stupid of her to have fallen asleep, _so_ stupid. This is how she gets herself killed. This is how she gets them all killed.

“Hey! Lucretia, where are you going?” Lucretia stops short, but not before she crashes into something hard and solid at about knee-height, and – it’s Davenport. It’s _Davenport._

“Oh,” she says softly. Then: “Oh, I didn't mean to – I’m so sorry, I don't know what I –”

“You're good, everything's all right,” Davenport dusts his nightshirt off with both hands, and Lucretia realizes that she's still in her rumpled uniform, her hair loose around her shoulders. Everyone else is sleeping. “The ship’s in working order, I was just taking a quick walk around, checking the reinforcements. You did a fine job, Lucretia.” He's using a softer, gentler tone of voice, one that he slips into at the end of particularly bad years, one that says, _it’s okay, I know you're tired, just a bit longer now._ Not so much a captain, but every bit their friend.

She pastes on a shaky smile. “I – thank you, I suppose.”

“Walk with me?” He takes off before Lucretia can respond. It’s a bit ridiculous that she has to nearly speed-walk to keep up with a man who’s less than half her height, but Davenport’s spent his entire life working towards being in front of everyone else. 

He leads her down the hall and into the dining room. The hallways are dark, but there's a soft, ambient glow coming from the kitchen, low voices floating around the corner.

Magnus is leaning against the counter, appearing as if deep in thought, but he abruptly turns when Lucretia and Davenport enter the room. “You too, huh?” he asks, as if the subject is clear. “Couldn't sleep?”

“I – suppose not,” Lucretia says, voice thin and wooden.

“Shit, you're not the only one.” Magnus laughs a little, shifting to reveal Lup and Taako sitting at the table behind him. Lup waves a little; Taako just flips a peace sign as he reclines in his seat, feet propped in Lup’s lap.

Lucretia blinks a little.

Davenport pats her arm, which is about as high as he can reach. “Well, I’m off to bed, but you four have a nice night. We’ve got a lot to get done in the morning!” Aside from the time he’d declared that they take a mental health year, that's about as feelings-forward as he’ll ever be, she guesses.

Lup waits till Davenport’s retreated to speak. “I’m guessing that he brought you down to, like, talk it out?”

“I suppose so?” Lucretia pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with two fingers, slides into the empty seat next to Lup. “I don't, I just ran into him in the hallway and he –”

“Yeah, I think I get the picture. Wanna chill here and not talk about trauma shit while Magnus deals you into the next game?”

For the first time, Lucretia realizes that Magnus is holding a pack of cards. “ _Fuck_ yes,” she says, and Lup’s laugh rings bright in the empty air.

“Taako, c’mon –” She nudges his feet off her lap, and he groans, flipping her off. “It’s not proper late-night trauma if we’re not having breakfast at midnight – Lucretia, have you eaten?” Lucretia shakes her head, and Lup grins, dealing her a hand of cards. “So get off your ass and make us some _fucking_ pancakes, babe.”

They're using some fucked-up betting system involving fantasy Monopoly pieces, of all things, and Lucretia has two out of three matches by the time that Taako levitates three heaping plates of pancakes to the table. After a barely perceptible frown from Lup, he dishes up a fourth plate and slides into his seat.

“Wait, Lucretia, have you had Taako’s pancakes yet?” Magnus says, mouth already full. “‘Cause they’re _so fuckin’ good_ , like, special-occasion shit. That kinda good.”

_I’ve lived with you for sixty-five years_ , Lucretia is about to say, but – she _didn't know._ Something in her chest catches, and she sucks in a tight, shaking breath. They spend a decent amount of time together, and there isn't one person on the ship who would deny that they were family, but they’ve also spent the years running for their lives, frantically playing a game of catch-up against their enemy. She knows that there's always been some cycles where they have less time to bond than others, but just –

There was a time, last cycle, when Lucretia thought, _this is it,_ when she looked down at the journal in her hands and realized that, if she went down with the ship, this would be the last record of the crew, all that would be left for future generations, if there was anyone here at all. All of that and she’s still noticing details for the first time, like the way Davenport rolls his sleeves up to his elbows when he's working on the ship, or how Magnus tries to adopt any mice that hitch a ride aboard the ship, or that Taako’s favorite recipe is apparently pancakes, golden-brown and fluffy and topped with strawberries that split apart as Lucretia digs her fork in. 

The ship has just enough supplies to be lived on for a good while in the event of an emergency, but Lucretia spent the majority of the last cycle without the time to sit down for a proper meal, only eating when necessary.

It’s the best thing she's tasted all year.

* * *

It’s been hours, but nobody’s brought up the subject of sleep yet. They’d relocated to the common area, sleepy and stuffed with pancakes, and even though they had all claimed their own corners of each of the four couches – ostensibly to play real Monopoly, at Lup’s insistence – they've since migrated to a single drowsy pile on the floor.

She can't remember whose idea it was, just that Magnus had put his hand on her arm and she’d leaned into it without thinking, pulled away with apologies spilling out of her mouth. All Magnus had done was offer a sad smile and say, _it’s been a long time since anyone’s touched you, huh,_ and that was all it took for Lucretia to break. A year ago, that would've meant that she’d run off to hide, maybe find a place to cry quietly, but she just bit her lip, didn't allow tears to well up in her eyes ‘till Magnus had already enveloped her in a warm hug. 

Now, Magnus is snoring, leaning against one of the couch cushions with Lup is pressed against his side, claiming that she's in it for the body heat. Lucretia is curled up under a throw blanket, her head in Lup’s lap, and Lup twists one of her stray curls around her finger, face softly lit in the dim light. Against Lup’s other side, Taako makes a soft, insistent sound, and she messes with his hair too.

“Can I ask,” Lucretia says. For a moment, she's worried that she's shattered whatever peaceful silence they've earned, but her words don't feel quite real in the predawn light. Lup doesn't say anything, just keeps stroking Lucretia’s hair, but she inclines her head slightly. “Did – did it hurt? When…”

Lup takes in the question for a good moment, and when she speaks, her words are careful, measured. “When we died?”

Lucretia flinches. “Yes.”

“It… didn’t. I don't know if that's any comfort?” Lup looks away, casting her face into shadow. “We were turned into stone down there, so it was cold and dark for a really long time, but… We didn't suffer, if that's what you were asking.”

That’s what dying is: cold and dark. But not awful, not this time.

“I had wondered,” Lucretia says, lips barely moving. She had, sort of. Thinking about it was the worst sort of game. In her better moments, she pretended that they were just fine, that they were still in the ship with her, that at any moment the kitchen would be filled with Lup and Taako bickering, or Barry would blow up another experiment and Davenport would start lecturing from three rooms away.

Faint lights flicker on the ceiling, the reflections of thousands of stars cast above them. They'll be landing soon. New bodies, new planet, new start.

“I, ah.” Lucretia swallows hard; her mouth is suddenly dry. “I spent a lot of time talking to Fisher.”

“While we were… gone?”

“Yeah.” She’d tried to keep her distance, well aware of how this would look to any outsider – _Finally losing my mind,_ she’d joked to them. Not like she was talking to walls; Fisher _listened_ , or seemed to, at least.

“What’d you talk about?”

(Her hand pressed against the glass – _Hi, Fisher, that was scary, wasn’t it? It’s gonna be okay. I don’t know where – The others are gone, Magnus is gone. It’s just us right now. Let’s make this count.)_

“I don’t know.”

Lucretia closes her eyes. She's exhausted, but still too wired to sleep, not when she's being touched. The flickering lights are still there when she opens her eyes again, and she remembers what they remind her of.

There's a sudden, tight knot in her throat, and she bites her lip to keep from tearing up. “I don't know.”

* * *

They land in an open field with a dense forest of trees on all sides. It’s eerily quiet, not even birdsong to break the silence. 

“Okay, so!” Davenport rubs his hands together as he addresses the crew members lined up on front of him. “Haven’t picked up anything on the scanner, so it’ll be a few days before the light drops, at least. Taako, Lup, I want the two of you on the lookout for that. We’ve for a lot of repairs to do; me and Merle will stay behind with the Starblaster. So Magnus, Barry, I’m gonna get the two of you do some scouting, make friends with the locals–”

“Might be deserted,” Barry says.

“Might be. Either way, I’ll pack you some rations so you won’t go hungry. Try to make it back to us by the time the Light falls; we’ll have a more concrete plan by then, okay?”

“I want to come with you.” Lucretia’s own voice sounds like it’s coming from someone else, someone who knows what the hell she’s doing. Six sets of eyes land on her and she immediately straightens her spine, looks Davenport in the eyes the way she’s been trained to do since she was young. “I – I want to go with Barry and Magnus. To help.”

“I – I don't –” Davenport’s fumbling around for an answer, and Magnus says, “Oh, _Lucretia,”_ like he’s about to break.

Lucretia meets his gaze coolly. She’s tired of hiding, tired of ducking away from conflict. “It’s for my journals. It’s – I’ve come to realize over the past year that I need a first-hand account of these planets, and I feel that shadowing Barry and yourself is – It’s the easiest way to gain that experience.” 

“Lucretia,” Magnus says again, and there’s something raw and broken in his voice. “You know that we aren’t going to leave you here, right? You’ll – Merle and Davenport are gonna stay with the ship, you won’t be alone.”

“I want –” Lucretia’s breath catches in her throat, and she hugs her journal more tightly to her chest. “I want to go with you. _Please._ ”

_I need this,_ is what she doesn't say, but Davenport must pick up on it anyways, because he reaches up, pats her arm. “Okay,” he says, and that’s all. There aren't any more arguments after that. 

* * *

Lucretia dies.

Lucretia dies, and that’s only every happened one time before. Everyone else has been racking up death counts – even Taako, ever-cautious, has died eight awful, awful times – but Lucretia has only ever experienced death once, on a planet covered in ice. It had been towards the end of an early cycle, and she’d wandered too far from the ship, and it was too cold, and – well.

She has the details of her misadventure written in the journal for that year, but it’s tucked away with all the others, and she won’t read it again. 

Before, dying had felt – insubstantial, almost. Like slipping away in the middle of a dream, and waking up in the next cycle disoriented, but with no new notes, no major revelation on the nature of death. It was painless, or the closest thing to it.

This time, dying is _awful._

It hurts. A lot, in fact, and as Lucretia is bleeding out, she thinks, _Lup was lying._ Maybe that’s uncharitable of her, given the circumstances. There’s a minute that stretches into an eternity, one where it’s so dark and so quiet that she can’t even hear her own heartbeat. 

And then: Light, white and blinding, and it hasn’t been an eternity, it’s only been a couple of seconds, and she’s surrounded by the crew again. _Her_ crew.

Magnus is the first to embrace her, just seconds after she’s regenerated, so her first memory in their sixty-seventh cycle is of _touch,_ of being loved unconditionally and without expectation.

* * *

The next cycle, when Lucretia lifts her chin, thinks of the way her hands shook as she watched her friends knit back into existence (foolish) (so, so foolish, like a child; she should've known that they would come back for her) and says, “I want to go with you,” nobody argues.

Something tight coils in her chest when the crew sits together now, when they’re eating at the table or huddled in a team meeting. _Don’t you see,_ she wants to say. _Don’t you see how fragile we are, how aimless our journey is? Let me protect you. Let me guide you._

She can’t make herself write that cycle, overcome with bone-deep exhaustion after long days of fighting for her life. She asks Magnus to tutor her in the evenings, and pretends that’s why she doesn't have time to write, that she doesn't just freeze when she puts pen to paper. She goes to bed bruised and battered some nights, but it feels good: She did something. She was strong. She fought for herself. 

Sometimes, Lucretia lies awake with the cool glow of Fisher’s tank washing over her and imagines herself turning to stone, something hard and protective growing over her heart, like the calluses on her hands. 

* * *

“It’s not ‘cause of us, right?”

Magnus’s voice jolts Lucretia out of a peaceful meditation. They're drenched in sweat, doing cool-down exercises at the end of a long and arduous sparring session. For Magnus, that means doing stretches and flexing in the mirror a lot. Lucretia’s sitting cross-legged on a yoga mat trying to recenter herself.

She opens one eye in irritation. “What was that?”

“This –” Magnus is turned away from her, but she can see his reflection in the mirror. The hesitation. “The training, the… going on missions with us. The, uh.” He closes his eyes. “You died, and.. it’s not… I just wanted to make sure that you didn't think that you, like, owed us or anything. For what happened. ‘Cause it wasn’t your fault!”

“No.” Her voice is sharp, and she winces a little. “No, Magnus, I would never – I just want to be able to protect you too. Is that so bad?”

“No! Gods, Lucretia, of course not!” He turns towards her, and she sees now that his shoulders are slumped in relief. He was worried, actually _worried_ , and where she might have written that in her journals, she just pushes the feeling farther inside herself. “I – You're doing so good, you're doing great, and I – _we_ couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Something warm blooms inside Lucretia, and she thinks of when she was six, the first time she’d sat in the library and poured over books about the universe, realized what the world could do _for_ her. Thinks about what it feels like to be good at something, what it means to be good at protecting your friends. 

This – this is bearable.

* * *

“You know, you don't gotta do it.”

The wind blows Lup’s hair across her face, and she spits out a few errant strands, irritation briefly overtaking her expression. She’ll cut it soon, Lucretia knows, shave the side of her head like she does at the start of every cycle. _Shoulda done this before we left,_ she keeps saying, like that’ll change anything.

“Do _what?”_

They’re interrupted by a shout, and Magnus comes running through the field, Taako on his heels. They’d left to scout out the surrounding area just a few hours ago, and that they've already returned – Lucretia’s heart jumps, and she readies her protective barrier.

But Lup goes running up to meet them halfway, and it takes a moment before Lucretia realizes that whatever Magnus is carrying in his jacket, it’s small and dark and _alive,_ and then Lup deposits something soft and wriggling in her arms, and, _oh._

“This planet has puppies!” Magnus says. He’s holding at least three, and deposits one in Davenport’s waiting arms.

The puppy in Lucretia’s arms squirms it's way to lick her chin, and she holds it at arms’ length for a moment. It’s so small. They all are – so small, and fragile, and –

_No._ She can’t afford to think about that right now. What she needs to do is put together a team to find out if there’s any people on this planet, or if it’s all puppies; and if it _is_ all puppies, why is that, is that something she's can solve, put the puzzle pieces together one at a time? And always, always: where is the Light, who’s seen it, how can they survive this time?

“So, like, before?” Lup’s hovering over her shoulder, and she sits cross-legged on the deck of the Starblaster, motioning for Lucretia to join her. She does, gingerly cradling the puppy in one arm. What if she hurts it? What then? “About… you know, you don't gotta be strong for us.”

“I’m well aware.” And she _is._ Lucretia knows exactly what she’s doing, knows exactly how she can save everyone. “I don't…” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don't really see what the problem is.”

Lup hums, kicking her legs against the metal railing. “Not like there’s a… problem, exactly? I just wanted you to know that, yknow. It’s okay to be strong for us, and I’m – I’m so proud of you, how much you've grown, and if you're happy, if this is making you happy, then that's –” She trails off for a moment, whatever she was about to say dying in the cool morning air. “But it’s okay to not be strong too? Like, you… shouldn’t have to be something you're not to protect us, or whatever. We won't think any less of you.”

Lucretia’s eyes burn, and she swallows hard. “Can you, um,” she manages, holding the puppy out, because she is absolutely certain that she’s going to drop it somehow, ruin everything. Her hands are shaking, just a little.

Someone else takes it from her hands instead, and Magnus sits down beside her. “How’s it going?” he asks, as if Lucretia isn’t furiously scrubbing at her eyes, trying to hold the tears back. She can’t afford to cry. There’s work to be done.

“I can't say that things are going great,” she manages. Wishes that she had brought her journal – anything to act as a barrier between her and the world right now.

But then Lup slings an arm around her shoulders and says, “C’mon, at least let us fix it this time,” and Lucretia takes a shaky breath and allows herself to lean on Magnus as she finally allows herself to cry. For a moment, it’s as if she’s sitting in the edge of the world, her weight supported between the two of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [punkwixes](http://punkwixes.tumblr.com) on tumblr! you can find out more about my fics/how to support them over there.


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